A Certain Slant of Light
by brokenbelljar
Summary: The light breeze pushed and pulled the puddle water, leaves were drifting to and fro; the world felt empty. The war is over and everyone is left feeling lost. Hermione is picking up everyone elses pieces but who will pick up her? DMHG
1. You Found Me

**A/N: **_This is my first FanFiction. Reviews are welcome! Don't be gentle. Thanks to D18LifeMusic for being my BetaReader. :) I corrected some words, apparently auto-correct happens with my brain as well as my phone._

**Disclaimer: **_I own nothing, really. _

**_Banner: http:/ i51. tinypic .com / oabthg .jpg (Credit to Caution 2.0 member: mysterytears)_**

**Autumn after the end.**

The light breeze pushed and pulled the puddle water, leaves were drifting to and fro; the world felt empty. Eyes of those once filled with laughter and joy, seemed hallow in a way, like the questions asked had never been answered. Despite the outcome of the war, no one on the winning side felt as if they had won – so many were lost, so many had been killed and injury, so many had been tortured, and even yet many had done things they never wanted to.

-HG-

Too many nights had she gone without sleep. The house hadn't been quiet for awhile now. If it wasn't one person, it was the another, and it broke her heart. They were supposed to feel happy, like they had won – why didn't she feel like that? Without the others pain, she still suffered. The war had changed her, traumatized her in ways, and stole the last of her innocence from her. Although there was no way to change it now, Hermione couldn't stop thinking about it, all of it.

She sat on the windowsill of her makeshift bedroom at the Burrow. The sky was getting dark and the foreboding of another sleepless night began to make her feel restless. Ron, Harry, George, and the others had wandered off to the Ministry. Lavender and Ginny had also gone off to Diagon Alley to shop. Despite their nagging and persistent whines, she still stayed home. The only others at the Burrow were Mrs. Weasley and Draco Malfoy.

The girl could no longer sit and do nothing she was positively bored and hadn't yet received her things from her parents home. With no books, no Ginny nor Harry or Ron, she took off to find Mrs. Weasley for company. Unfortunately as she went down the flight of stairs she heard a distinctive snore coming from just inside Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's bedroom.

Sighing, she continued down the old flight of stairs and walked to kitchen. Hermione poured herself a glass of milk, gathered a handful of cookies, and walked towards the largest window in the home. She could feel the storm approaching and wanted to enjoy it.

Too bad her enjoyment didn't last long. She watched as Draco Malfoy stormed out of the Burrow and kick the dirt. Some things never changed and he proved that. He still acted like a spoiled-only-child-git. But as the rain grew closer and he continued to sit outside in the mud, Hermione couldn't let him be by himself. The last few weeks she heard his pain the loudest at night. Everyone else had put silencing charms to block sounds from coming into their rooms, except her. She had been left paranoid and had to pay by listening to everyone's cries and screams. Malfoy's was the loudest.

Putting her cookies into a napkin and into her pocket the girl walked outside and stood behind him for a minute. She knew he was a git, would call her nasty names, and just makes fun of her for trying to comfort him. The others would also make fun of her. He was her enemy, despite his help in the war, nothing could change their past. But she would always be the better person and who knows maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

She silently placed her hand on his shoulder, squeezing a little, and sat down beside him. The words were lost on her as she looked at his face. The war's effects were sketched across it.

-DM-

_Narcissa's screams awoke him from his bed. He ran through the halls of the Manor. Pushing the nagging house elves out of his way. Searching her room, the tea room, he started to become frantic. Her piercing screams continued and led him to the dungeon. Why was she down there? Draco blasted through the door to find his mother tied to a table, his father standing by her side – wand pointed directly at her. She was under the Crucio curse. _

'_F-f-father', his dreamself choked out. His fathers cold as ice eyes turned to him._

'_Draco,' he replied, 'why don't you finish the job? Kill your mother.'_

_He watched horrified that his father would even suggest such a thing. His mother had been supportive of his ranting and raving lunacies, she didn't deserve this. _

'_No! Stop this.' He may have been brought up to be cold and heartless, but his mother he loved. His father moved his wand away from his wife. Narcissa laid there, tears streaming down her put together face. As Draco stepped towards his mother others stepped out from the shadows. He stood frozen with anticipation._

'_How DARE you tell me what to do, boy! Now that you have defied me, your filthy mother will suffer more.' Lucius was inches from his sons' face. The other men chuckled. Lucius turned back to his crying wife, wand pointed and shouted the imperious curse. After removing her binding, he made her bend over the table, with her eyes towards Draco. _

_Draco pulled out his wand but his father was faster. He pinned Draco to the wall, removing his wand and binding him against the stone. _

He awoke with a jolt. This memory came to him every time he slept, in the form of a dream. He could not escape it. He would not be here, in the burrows, if it weren't for his father. That moment that Lucius made the young Malfoy watch the defilement and murder of his mother had scarred and altered his views on the world. The Order was not ideal but he would never – could never associate himself with Death Eaters again.

So here he was in the home of the Weasleys and the Burrows was a joke. There were rooms, stairs, and more rooms. How anyone lived here was beyond him. It was old and poorly furnished. He missed the Manor, his things – the finer things. But they wouldn't let him return home until the following year. Death Eater homes needed to thoroughly searched and examined.

Mafloy couldn't stand staying in his bedroom any longer. Everyone was gone besides Granger and Mrs. Weasley, getting out wouldn't be that horrible. He practically ran down the stairs and out the door. The fresh air nearly knocked him off of his feet. Draco hadn't left his room for more than two weeks. He hated everyone here and they hated him, it seemed pointless. He walked further away from the odd home and just stood there, taking it all in.

"This is unfair," he yelled to the sky. He kicked the ground below him, mud flying in directions and covering the bottom of his robes. The air was thick and the sky was darkening; a storm was approaching. The rain would feel welcoming.

Too many sleepless nights had left him feeling fragile and vulnerable. He didn't want their pity or sympathy, they had their own problems, not that he cared. He was a Malfoy, he didn't need blood traitor or mudblood help. He would survive, he just needed to stop being a little prat.

Draco sat in the mud, numb to the cold ground, numb to the world around him, numb to the small hand that had suddenly appeared on his shoulder. It wasn't until the hand squeezed lightly and she sat beside him before he noticed. He scowled and leaned away from her. Why was she even out here? They weren't friends, not even the war could make them friends, she was still a mudblood. _Stupid girl, _he thought to himself.

He watched her sit down beside him. They studied each other for a few minutes before looking away. She was still the same Granger he knew, but she seemed different. Maybe more confident, maybe older, or maybe less of a prude, he just couldn't place it. At least she wasn't talking to him, he could deal with her presence as long as she didn't speak.

They sat there, in silence, until the rain fell.

* * *

**Chapter 2 Preview: **

"Don't." He looked at her with confusion. '_Hadn't she been saving herself for him? Didn't she__want this? It had been seven long years and now she was denying him,' _he thought.

"What? What's wrong? I thought… You… I… I thought you loved me?" He was angry and hurt. He didn't understand why she was denying him now.


	2. Don't Need A Reason

**Don't Need A Reason**

**A/N: Sorry this took so long, busy with the holidays and my daughters 1st birthday! If I get a lot of reviews, I'll post Ch. 3 tonight and I'll make it a long one. Otherwise Ch. 3 won't be up for awhile. Going to get my wisdom teeth out tomorrow and things so, I won't be writing for a few days. No preview for Ch. 3 either, sorry. :\**

**Thanks to my beta-reader(s) D18LifeMusic & lily-rhiannon :)**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize. **

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**-HG-**

The light rain fell down and over the emotionally battered girl. She never hid her feelings and she never would, even though she was sitting next to her six-year long enemy. Even after all of his mocking and tormenting. That's just not who she was, she hated secrets - even more now that the biggest battle was over.

But the tears were no strangers to her, either. Most days were easier than others; but days when it rained, days when everyone was gone, and there were no distractions she couldn't help but let them fall. She let them pour down her rosy cheeks, blending with the fresh rain.

And yet, Draco's stare agitated her a little, had he never seen someone cry? His demeanor was different; it was off as he stared at her. He would soon make a smart comment, mock her, and she almost hoped - hoped for something that seemed normal. Secretly, she had hoped he hadn't been changed by the war that he would've just remained the same malicious Malfoy. She needed someone to still be the same.

"Stop staring, Malfoy. It's rude." She opened an eye and looked at him, giving him a sneer. He turned away; giving his patented simper. It was nice not actually having a conversation with someone for once, not talking about feelings or what happened in the war. To just sit here in the company of someone else and not speak, said more to Hermione than anything else; and she would treasure it, but it wasn't in her nature to not talk.

"Why are you out here? It's cold and raining. I would've thought you would go with everyone else." She turned her head towards him, her brown doe eyes taking him all in. He had grown a lot since sixth year. He was taller, more filled out, and his blonde locks were shorter than normal. He had also started to grow a beard, he was scruffy, and it aged him in a very attractive way.

As he looked at her she caught something far away in his pale slate eyes. Something sinister and yet troubled. He was still the same Malfoy she grew up with, so she thought.

"And I would've thought the same about you. Don't you miss your boyfriend?" He sneered turning away from her. She stiffened and looked ahead. That was what she needed, someone to be normal. The silence slowly turned awkward until a loud pop was heard.

The others apparated just a few feet from them, startling them both. When the others got closer though, they stopped and rose themselves, heading to the house. She caught glimpse of Ginny and Harry holding hands and whispering to each other. They warmed her heart. But her smile faded, too, slowly, as she caught Ron eyeing her and Draco. Her pace quickened to the house, as she attempted to go hide in her room.

Something had changed in him during those dark months and it was for the worse. Hermione knew what that something was. She had watched Ron from the shadows as he did the unthinkable of things. At first, she thought he was under a spell but his actions told otherwise, along with his facial expressions and noises, that spoke loud that he was enjoying it. He was a dark man, now. Someone she didn't recognize; he scared her more than Voldemort ever had.

Ron had followed her to her room. She loved him but she didn't know in what way she loved him, not anymore, not after what she had seen him do and become.

The small girl reached to shut the door before Ron entered but he was quick, pushing her out of the way, and shutting the door behind him, her heart sank.

_'Not this again,' _she thought. Since things had somewhat settled he had been following her, stalking her like prey, and attempting to seduce her into doing things she didn't want. At first she didn't mind kissing him letting him fondle her; but when she didn't want to go any further he became rough and demanded more.

Then she stopped letting the fooling around happen and had stigmatized him entirely, that's when he had become threatening and scary; sometimes he would push her too far; forcing her to stupefy or petrify him and run, sometimes she wouldn't get so lucky.

The others never knew, never found out. She tried to play happy and pretend everything was okay with them when in front of others. Even Harry, who had spent countless months alone with the two of them, had no idea. She couldn't break everyone else's spirits; she felt she needed to deal with it alone.

He backed her against the bookshelf, hands on either side of her head. A small part of her liked his dominance, liked that finally he wanted to be with her, but that part was small and ever fading. Maybe if he had never done what she had seen him do, or maybe if he never pushed her like he did, things would be different.

He breathed in her scent, revealing in the sweet innocence of Hermione. His nose brushed against her neck, his lips caressing the bare skin.

"Don't, please."

He looked at her with confusion. '_Hadn't she been saving herself for me? Didn't she want this? It had been seven long years and she kept denying me,' _he thought.

"What? What's wrong? I thought… You… I… I thought you loved me?" He was angry and hurt. He didn't understand why she was rejecting him. He had played this card all of the other times, it stung. It pierced her heart like a dull knife and broke her down every time. Every time he would press further, taking it as an okay, despite her pleas and desperate no's.

She watched him now, the same eyes as always. How could she let him have so much power over her? Why was she allowing herself to be afraid of this man, this boy she grew up with?

He brought his hand to her jaw, tightly grabbing her face, and stared her down until she looked away. Ron's chapped lips came down on her pursed, already bruised lips. The last time he had done this he took her wand, and he did again this time, tossing it well out of reach.

He kept squeezing her face as he forced his tongue into her mouth. Her hands were pushing against his chest, slapping him unaffectedly. His tongue swirled around and rubbed her own, arousing him. He bit down on her lip, drawing blood, and she winced and cried. He didn't stop when he tasted the copper liquid, it brought out the real monster in him.

He pressed against her, against the bookshelf, hungry for more. He tugged and licked at the cut he had created. Growling, he grabbed her bottom and held her to his crotch, grinding into her; rubbing her raw. He was hurting her and she could feel he was going to go too far, not that he hadn't already. His manhood was hard and aching to leave his pants.

"Look at me, 'Mione." He turned her face towards him. "Look at me, I know you want this. You've wanted me since third year. Don't deny it."

He grabbed her breast, pinching her nipple through her bra and shirt. She cried out in pain, making him angry.

"Why are you pretending you don't want this?" Now Ron was losing control, he was shouting.

"Because I don't want this." She whispered. She went limp in his grip. What happened next, she never expected. He back handed her hard against the cheek.

"Don't talk to me that way! You know you do!" He was shaking; she took a step-back. That final act of violence gave her the courage she'd needed so long ago.

"I know what you did, Ronald. I don't want a part of that or part of you now." She tried to step around him, tried to make it to her wand but he punched her in the nose.

"You're a filthy liar, _**a filthy mudblood whore**_!" Then he hit her again, in the jaw and she fell to floor, not moving.

* * *

**-DM-**

The rain fell gently on them; it felt cleansing. If only it was he would let it all out, the thoughts, the murders, the dark arts, and most of all his father. He wanted to freed of his father, free of everything that was him. Never again could Draco associate his self with Lucious Malfoy.

He wanted to cry, shout, and lose it all but he wasn't alone. Nay, if only Granger wasn't here he could let go, really let go. He glanced over at her, she was still silent but didn't like she was dying to yell at him or even move from her spot. Her eyes were closed and she was leaning back, letting rain consume her - she almost looked free. But she wasn't free; he could see that when he kept watching; the harder the rain fell the more tears that spilled down her rosy cheeks. She never reached to wipe them away and she never opened her eyes, she just let them flow.

In a way Draco envied her being able to let her emotions go free, especially in front of a stranger - once an enemy. Yet he didn't envy her as well. She had a hard time before the war keeping her emotions in check and now it seemed like she didn't. Always had he kept his emotions to himself, hiding behind a façade, he felt that gave him the upper hand. He still didn't see her as weak though, no, never Hermione Granger.

She always stood up for what she believed in - the house elves, "the greater good", and even Buckbeak. He remembered that time all too well, third year, when she slugged him right in the nose. Never had he hated her more but at that moment she earned some sort of respect from him. He, despite the current Slytherin house (and not all of them), had always let his fear of standing up for something control him. He never would have been in the astronomy tower if Voldemort hadn't threatened his family, his mother particularly.

"Stop staring, Malfoy. It's rude." Hermione smirked at him which was different. Draco didn't expect her to talk to him, let alone be the same old Hermione he knew and grew up with. He smirked back at her, not knowing what to say. They stayed in the quiet rain, back to not saying anything; it was comfortable - not having to explain to anyone anything but of course, Hermione would ruin it for him.

"Why are you out here? It's cold and raining. I would've thought you would go with everyone else." She turned her head towards him, her chocolate eyes pierced his. He felt like she could see right into his soul, devouring his entire being.

As he looked at her she caught something far away in his pale grey blue eyes. Something sinister and yet troubled. He was still the same Malfoy she grew up with, she thought.

"And I would've thought the same about you. Don't you miss your boyfriend?" He sneered turning away from her. He noticed her stiffen; and the tears started streaming down again. Not wanting to alienate her, he let the subject go. No, he didn't want friends but he was tired of having enemies.

Before either of them could say anything else, they were saved by the others returning. Harry and Ginny were all over each other, like always. He watched Hermione survey the group, they were her makeshift family and she loved them, it was obvious.

However, when her eyes fell upon Ron he felt a wave of fear roll off of her, enveloping him as well; she got up and walked away quickly. Ron followed her like a predator; Draco recognized that look - he had it too, when he was fighting the war, doing evil deeds, it was not something he expected to see on the Weasley boy.

He, too, got up and went into the house, avoiding various other looks. The warmth of the Weasley house was welcoming; Mrs. Weasley was already awake and cooking dinner. Her food was much more pleasing than the food he ate during the war. He found his way into the kitchen and began doing the dishes.

He wasn't proud of it but during his time here Mrs. Weasley had become a mother figure to him and gave him small jobs to do during the day. He actually enjoyed doing the dishes, listening to her sing as she cooked. It gave him a small amount of hope.

When he was done, she nodded at him, silently dismissing him and he went upstairs to take a nap. His room was next to Hermione's, the only person who would allow him to be that close. No one trusted him, she didn't but she was more kind than everyone else.

He opened the door and flopped onto his bed. He missed his mother and the way she was when his father wasn't around. He would lay his head in her lap and she would tell him stories of when he was little. She allowed him to small, like a child again, and weak in the sense that his emotions could lay out before her without judgment, but most of all she gave him that will to hold on.

But now she was gone, gone at the hands of the man she loved. Draco was glad he was gone, too. He would have taken his life himself. No man deserved life after what he had done. Times like these made the young boy wonder how he could even have looked up to his father, call him a hero. He was no hero.

Draco heard and felt a thump against the wall he shared with his fellow class mate. He figured Ron and Hermione were shagging and it must have been hot if they were against the wall. Letting his curiosity take over, he pressed an ear to the wall, listening in. What he heard shocked him. He could feel the fear through the wall again.

"_You're a filthy liar, a filthy mudblood whore!" _He heard Ron shout and then there was a thud and silence. His thoughts raced and before he could comprehend what he was actually doing his feet were carrying him down the hall and he was opening Hermione's bedroom door.

Ron looked at him with disgust. His anger, for whatever Ron was about to do, was controlling him. His eyes were slowly hazing over, he was seeing red. His fists clenched to his sides, the rest of the Weasley's, including Harry, gathered at the door beside him. The young Malfoy had begun to slowly walk towards the red head.

"What the hell do you think you're doing,_ Malfoy_?" Ron turned to him, blood on his lips and he saw red. "Going to save her? Will that make up for not saving your poor defenseless Mum?"

Draco pummeled Ron and punched him in the ribs. Ron was delivering his own blows to Draco's face and chest. Hands were upon the two violent boys; Harry was grabbing Draco and Mr. Weasley, his son.

Mrs. Weasley gathered Hermione, and with Ginny disappeared from sight when Draco finally came back to reality - no longer clouded with rage.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Ron?" Harry was struggling himself after letting Draco calmed down. The anger was plain on his face.

"What did you do to Hermione, you twat?" The-Boy-Who-Lived-Again spat into his best friends face.

"I'll be taking him outside to the shed, Harry. Check on 'Mione and then send Molly our way." Arthur Weasley looked older than his age now; the tragedies that he had seen had caused his once laughter filled face to turn solemn and worn. Now, his concern and worry dripped from every word as he apparated his son outside.

"Tell me what you know, Malfoy." Letting go of Draco, Harry turned to him, sizing him up.


End file.
